a fragile interlude
by coatcollar
Summary: Tony and Charles bond


"If you could telepathically talk to your legs, could you walk?"

Charles spins the wheelchair to face the other man in the room. Tony Stark, self-professed genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, is peering at him over the tops of several cars and through a computer flatscreen or two. "I mean that sounds like a stupid question, I guess, can't figure out how else to put it, the nerves in your legs are just fine, right, there's just a lack of connection."

Charles blinks. He's taken to spending more and more time in the engineer's workshop; he appreciates Tony's fierce intelligence and determination and as a scientist he's pleased to have a colleague. He's started to do his work in the basement and he might even go so far as to call Tony a friend. It doesn't mean he understands what Tony says about half the time; the man talks and talks and talks, doesn't seem to mean half of what he's saying. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean." He wheels his way laboriously through the assorted debris and tries to avoid the bots on the way. They whistle at him and he reaches out to pet Dummy absently, wondering idly how Erik would have liked them. He catches himself and tenses, willing the thought out of his mind.

Tony sighs. "Okay. So the way I figure this is, your legs aren't damaged, right, just disconnected, and if we connected the nerves again you could walk. Right? Am I getting this right, I'm not really sure, it's not something I've done a lot of study on."

Still unsure as to what exactly is happening, Charles considers the question. "I'm…I don't know, actually. Seems like a sound theory. Why?"

"Hmm." Tony's lost in thought for an instant, poking at one of his screens. Charles watches as he pulls up a diagram of the spine and enlarges the lumbar region, prodding at it until it appears as a three-dimensional hologram. He crosses his arms and fidgets, one hand stroking his angular goatee, reaching out occasionally to click at something or another.

"Tony?" The engineer is trying to help, Charles realizes, but he's not communicating particularly well, and Charles still feels lost, a little. "Are you…what are you doing?"

"Oh! Right. Okay. Can you communicate telepathically with an AI. Like Jarvis. Hey, Jarvis, come talk to Charles for a minute, can you hear him? Hey, sorry, still confusing, I promise it'll all make sense in the end, okay, talk to Jarvis for a sec."

Charles sighs and puts his fingers to his temple. He's familiar now with the electronic butler, amused by its snark, but he doubts that his telepathic powers extend to computer programs. He reaches out, attempting to find the AI's center of consciousness, but there's nothing. "Jarvis, maybe you could say something," he suggests.

"Certainly, sir. I doubt this will be successful, sir, as…" Jarvis continues talking but it's no use.

"I can't, actually," he tells Tony apologetically. "Nothing's there. It has to be alive, to have thoughts."

"Hmm. Well I thought that might be the case, but never mind. It's okay, Jarvis, you're not enough of a person for Charles to talk to you, I tried, I'm sorry. Hey!" he looks at Charles, enthusiasm back, "what's that other thing you can do. Projection or illusions or what. Try one of those."

"What do you want me to do?"

Tony flaps a hand. "Something. Anything. Whatever. I wanna see if Jarvis picks up on it."

Charles is doubtful but he raises his hand again and imagines Tony's vanished. "Jarvis? Are you picking this up?"

"Everything seems to be as usual, sir."

"Shit!" It's obvious that Tony's disappointed. "Well, we tried, didn't we. My idea woulda been great, just saying, Nobel Prize for sure, always wanted one of those." Charles drops the illusion with a sigh.

Dummy, unexpectedly, whistles in what sounds like surprise.

Tony's eyes are suddenly piercing. "Dummy, did you see something? What did you see? Shit, you can't talk, my surprised AI can't talk, Charles, do that again and see what happens, Dummy, if you see any changes, interact with them, okay? Okay. Go."

Charles turns Tony invisible again and is shocked to see Dummy trundle into motion and attempt to poke at the space Tony appears not to be occupying. "Ouch, buddy, I'm right here. Wait. What did you do?"

"You're invisible at the moment, actually."

"Dummy, if you can't see me, whistle. If you can see me, beep."

Dummy whistles.

Charles takes off his illusion. "And now?" The robot beeps. Charles reaches out to touch what might be considered the mind of the robot and is astonished to find something there. It doesn't feel like the ordinary business of the human brain because it's much more structured and controlled, but Tony had somehow given his bots feelings and Charles…can feel those, in a sort of limited way. "Tony, I do believe you've given Dummy a soul." He nudges at the bot's thought structure—because it's not a mind, exactly—and can tell it's devoted to Tony, and that's about it, really, no higher thought processes, just a constant stream of __. He suggests, gently, that a little bit of danger might be coming from behind the Audi and is gratified to see the robot immediately move to look. "Wow. Yes, I can communicate with your AI's." He looks at Tony, smirking. "Or at least the lower-level ones."

Tony grins, big and brilliant. "I knew I was a genius. So what we're going to do, Charles, is I'm going to design an implant for your spine—" he starts pulling up screen after screen and moves something that's shaped like a deck of cards to the holograms. "—and I guess I'll also have to design another AI with a soul, I don't know where Dummy got his, I was seventeen and drunk when I coded him, that'll be a challenge, but what this AI is gonna do is it's going to stand in for your damaged nerve, you'll talk to it, it'll give out the correct pulses to move your legs. It might work. It'll totally work. You'll be able to walk." He looks up. "Charles?"

Charles can tell his face is closed-off and stony-looking and he can feel Tony's surprise, and he knows he should be grateful right now, but he's not ready for this. The wheelchair is a reminder of his own failures, his own weaknesses, his blindness, and that's not something he's ready to forget, just yet, so he shakes his head. "No, Tony," he says gently, and turns to leave.

"Wait, why?" calls Tony, radiating confusion as Charles wheels himself towards the elevator. "Charles! C'mon, I got this, you'll walk again, you gotta want that, right? Charles!"

Charles doesn't look back.


End file.
